The news Gong Qi brought also stirred a trace of excitement in Lang Jiuchuan — if the imperial family and the Xuan clan were at odds, it meant the relationship between the two was no longer as inseparable as before, which would make it all the easier for her to bring the Rong Family down.

Lang Jiuchuan had been about to ask Gong Qi about the Rong Family’s Fourth Madam, but then she saw the water ghost from Tongtian Pavilion had come to find her.

The Linglong Pagoda that had previously been stored at Tongtian Pavilion — its master had regained consciousness. A’Piao was asking her to come over and speak with him.

Lang Jiuchuan set aside her curiosity for the time being. After all, Gong Qi would be spending plenty of time in Wu Jing from now on, and she could always ask later.

She left Fuqi to watch the shop and had a carriage called to take her to Tongtian Pavilion. Gong Qi took Gong Shiliu to the residence the Gong Family had established in Wu Jing.

Inside Tongtian Pavilion.

A’Piao gazed at the man with his gentle, refined bearing and let out a soft sigh. If he had lived, with his brilliance, who knew how many common people he might have benefited — yet he had been cut down at the very height of his glory. How truly lamentable.

That man surnamed Sheng was no human being at all.

Lang Jiuchuan arrived and also laid eyes on the pagoda’s master — a graceful, scholarly young man of remarkable talent. He stood straight as a pine, one hand clasped behind his back, no longer bearing that frail, nearly dispersed appearance from before.

The man saw her and cupped his hands in a respectful bow: “Ning Long offers his gratitude to his benefactor for delivering him from suffering.”

He bowed with the most devout and sincere heart. The golden auspicious spiritual energy on his body transformed into a ray of light that drifted toward Lang Jiuchuan, and once the light had fully faded, the golden auspicious energy on him had diminished considerably.

After her, he bowed to A’Piao as well, though the golden light he transmitted to A’Piao was far less.

Even so, feeling the meritorious spiritual energy enter his soul, A’Piao was overcome with excitement. This meritorious spiritual energy was even purer than incense offerings.

Lang Jiuchuan was equally delighted. This was the meritorious spiritual energy of a Star of Literature — righteous and powerful, comparable to the finest restorative tonic.

A Star of Literature reborn into the mortal world was indeed something extraordinary!

If he had become a high official, his meritorious fortune would surely have grown even stronger, his power even purer — what a pity.

Because of this, Lang Jiuchuan silently cursed that wretch Sheng Huai’an a thousand times over in her heart. Heaven-damned old scoundrel — truly a plague upon the world.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at the pagoda’s master: “Sir, your name is Ning Long? That matches the name of this Linglong Pagoda rather well.”

“My family name is Ning. When my mother was in labor, she dreamed of a lustrous jade entering the womb, and so my father gave me the name Long.” Ning Long smiled faintly and said, “The name fits the man — I was indeed born with a mind of seven apertures, having attained the roots of wisdom. And yet, unexpectedly, this very gift brought disaster upon me. Not only did I lose my life, but even my very bones were refined into this pagoda.”

His slender fingers drifted over the Linglong Pagoda as if describing another person’s story, his voice neither joyful nor sorrowful: “With one aperture opened, all the rest followed — I could have achieved the great joy of passing all six imperial examinations in succession. Yet I was ambushed on my way to sit for them. Sheng Huai’an was my schoolmate. He was far inferior to me, but compared to other students who studied hard yet failed to pass, his diligence had earned him the rank of举人 — a Juren — which was already quite remarkable, and passing the highest examination was only a matter of time. Nevertheless, jealousy bred malice. When a brilliant pearl shines before one’s eyes, human nature becomes twisted. He was exceptionally ruthless and vicious. To seize my gift of wisdom, my bones, and my life’s fortune, he dared make a bargain with a demon — using his own son as the price.”

Lang Jiuchuan and A’Piao exchanged a glance.

Ning Long stroked the Linglong Pagoda and continued: “That wicked Daoist pulled my living soul from my physical body, burned my remains to extract the bones, then fused them with Sheng Huai’an’s heart blood and fingernail clippings to forge this Linglong Pagoda. My soul was imprisoned within it, made into a life-bound protective vessel for warding off misfortune and attracting luck — bound forcibly to Sheng Huai’an, sharing a soul and sharing fortune, never to leave his person.”

Lang Jiuchuan listened and lifted the Linglong Pagoda, saying: “Your living soul was imprisoned, the formation steadily drew upon your soul — the fortune flowed endlessly without ceasing. No wonder he has sailed so smoothly all these years. It turns out it was entirely thanks to the spiritual energy you, as a Star of Literature, brought with you.”

A living soul was different from a dead soul. Violently torn from its physical body, his soul was akin to having fled its home — he could not be counted as truly dead. Yet with the physical body destroyed, unless he could find another body to inhabit and thus survive, a living soul left to wander would eventually become a drifting wraith — either devoured by other ghostly spirits or simply dispersed into nothingness.

But Ning Long had been imprisoned, which amounted to the same fate. Over time, the meritorious energy produced by his living soul would dissipate, the vessel would become useless, and he would gradually weaken and fade away.

Previously, when Lang Jiuchuan had encountered him, only a weak remnant soul remained — and that was precisely the reason.

Ning Long cupped his hands toward Lang Jiuchuan again, his expression filled with admiration: “Master, you are truly beyond what ordinary mortals can match.”

A’Piao asked: “And the top-ranked imperial examination essay he submitted — what was that about? You were the one who wrote it, weren’t you?”

Ning Long nodded in confirmation: “Yes. It was also born of my own unwillingness. I had already passed the first five examinations in succession — only one remained before I could achieve the glory of passing all six. He exploited that unwillingness and resentment. Through talismans from that wicked Daoist, he drove and compelled me, using my soul’s thoughts, channeled through his hands, to compose the examination essay. And I am ashamed to say — I never thought to resist with everything I had.”

As he spoke of this, a flicker of lingering resentment surfaced in him.

To pass all six imperial examinations in succession — what a glorious achievement that would have been.

Yet he had fallen into the hands of a villain, captured by a wicked man.

And he himself had been unable to suppress that resentment — and in doing so, had instead helped that villainous scoundrel succeed.

Lang Jiuchuan shook her head with a smile: “You are mistaken, sir. You have already achieved the glory of passing all six examinations.”

Ning Long was taken aback.

“The top-ranked essay under Sheng Huai’an’s name was indeed written by his hand, but the entire composition — the arguments, the insights, the vision — all of it came from your mind. Every substantive thought within it was your own thinking, your own observations, and what you would have done in the future. A composition of that caliber, regardless of whether it bore the name Zhang Huai’an or Chen Huai’an, would still have been ranked first.” Lang Jiuchuan said calmly: “When the late Emperor selected the top scholar, he was selecting the essay, not the person. So how can you say you have not passed all six examinations?”

Ning Long burst out laughing — a laugh full of unbridled ease, his expression bright and open: “You are absolutely right. That was my essay. No matter whose name was written on it, it was always a top-ranked composition!”

“Then why did Master Ning appear in that collection? I heard from Xiao Jiu that she discovered you in a collection belonging to the man surnamed Sheng.” A’Piao was quite curious about this.

Ning Long gave a quiet sigh: “It all began with that top-ranked essay. He published a new collection and placed that essay at the very front as the opening piece. But when he was finalizing the woodblock printing, he stumbled accidentally at the print shop. The Linglong Pagoda knocked against a carving knife beside the woodblock. I sensed that the soul-binding curse on the pagoda had cracked, and I squeezed through that fissure and attached myself to the woodblock. The top-ranked essay was the work of my heart and soul — it was my deepest conviction. When it was compiled and published in print, I had nowhere else to go, so I settled within it as well. It was far better than remaining beside that man as his guardian spirit. He is unworthy of such a thing!”

As he spoke these last words, a cold, piercing sharpness radiated from his soul.

“This could be called the workings of heaven’s justice — fate intervening in ways unseen, preventing your soul from being truly lost.” A’Piao sighed, then corrected himself: “Or rather — preventing your soul from being scattered?”

Lang Jiuchuan shook her head: “Success through his own undoing — what brought him fame and renown was that very essay, and that very essay has now brought retribution upon him. Perfectly just. Now that Master Ning’s soul has been restored and he has regained his senses, Sheng Huai’an’s time has clearly run out.”

The words had barely left her lips when a commotion rose from the floor below. The three of them walked to the window and looked out, then exchanged glances.

One doesn’t speak of people in daylight — the man surnamed Sheng had come again to invite humiliation upon himself!